memorable dispatch

By JOSHUA MASINDE
On a cold December night in 1999, I had the privilege of attending an initiation rite of the Sabaot of Mt. Elgon region in Western Kenya. My uncle, with whose family I was staying, took me there. The ghostly darkness and the dancing in the chilling breeze gave the night a strange aura. I had undergone my own rite of passage a year before. But this one appeared odd.
Having expected to see brave young men, enduring the chilly night, dancing, drumming and jingling their instruments so used in circumcision rites, a surprise lay in waiting. The unexpected sight of a file of young, energetic and frail girls, dancing vigorously, first in circles, then in one straight file away from the crowd, looked more like a scene of witches dancing away their evil machinations past midnight, a scene taken straight out of a Nollywood script.
But more was to come. This was a female circumcision ceremony. My mind conceived all possible graphic details of the act itself, as I kept wondering that alas, and indeed that my unfortunate sisters had at last, passed into adulthood through a very excruciating exercise that was to change their lives forever. The cut itself, blood trickling….The lurid gory details demanded pity for the victims.
A recent parliamentary report on Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) in Kapchorwa and Nakapiripit districts in eastern Uganda has however signalled a timely intervention, which could offer respite to the girls and women who would have undergone this crude cultural rite of passage. The report has led to the passing by the Ugandan legislature of a new law outlawing and criminalising FGM. The law grants a maximum 10 year punishment for the perpetrators of the crude act, and life imprisonment for those who carry out aggravated FGM. Aggravated FGM is a case where the victim passes on after the cut, or is infected with HIV/AIDS or becomes disabled.
Prior to enacting the law, a motion criminalizing the act was moved by Dr. Chris Baryomunsi, Kinkizi east MP in Uganda. Dr. Baryomunsi later introduced a private bill in parliament countering FGM in Uganda in September for debate. It was unanimously enacted into law on December 10.
The World Health Organization (WHO) defines female genital mutilation (FGM) as “the partial or total removal of the external female genitalia or other injury to the female genital organs whether for cultural or other non-therapeutic reasons.
FGM is also practiced in other parts of the world and Amnesty International estimates over 130 million women worldwide have been victims. It is estimated that 92 million of Africa’s women have been victims with over 3 million cases carried out annually on the African continent. In Uganda, the Sabiny of Kapchorwa, Bukwo, Bugiri and Nakapiripirit districts in the eastern frontier have indigenous tribes that vigorously practice FGM, according to the parliamentary report. The rite is performed bi-annually each year.
There are about four ways in which FGM is executed: “Sunna” circumcision is the removal of the prepuce and/or the tip of the clitoris; Clitoridectomy, or excision, which is the removal of the entire clitoris and adjacent labia; Infibulation (pharaonic circumcision), removal of the clitoris and entire labia and then joining the scraped sides of the vulva across the vagina using thorns or catgut, leaving only a small opening for passage of urine and menstrual blood.
FGM is generally performed in unsanitary conditions with unclean sharp instruments, such as pieces of glass, stones, knives, or razor blades. A single instrument is often used on many girls and/or women without cleaning, leading to the transmission of various viruses, such as HIV/AIDS.
While there are no benefits associated with FGM, the procedure is characterised with health complications like cruelty of the procedure, urine retention which is painful, short term haemorrhage, which can lead to death. It can also engender infertility, vulva abscess, clitoral cysts, labia adherences, difficulties in menstruation, fistula, disability and increased risks of HIV/AIDS infections.
In the parliamentary report, Mr Peter Kamuron, a human rights activist, opines that; “Once a girl is cut, she is cut off from enjoying her reproductive health and rights and continuing with education, and from any hope for employment and or future economic survival.”
But there are now initiatives such as the Reproductive Educative and Community Health (REACH) started in 1996 in Kapchorwa, which have been at the forefront in helping to discourage or stop FGM. Using education as its primary tool in eliminating FGM, REACH formed the Sabiny Elders Association to reach people. The targeted communities later decided on their own to stop the practice. The Kapchorwa district has seen a 36 per cent decrease in FGM.

By Joshua Masinde
The cool, icy breeze permeates several openings on MV Kalangala. It’s my first voyage on water, from Nakiwogo pier in Entebbe to Lutoboka pier in Kalangala district. I’ll be in Kalangala in 3 hours, courtesy of the cool weather and the serene lake.
The Captain of MV Kalangala, Yusufu Bulunya, confides in me that it takes approximately 3 hours to or fro the island.
Aboard the ship, are approximately 108 passengers, the maximum capacity of human cargo the Marine Vessel Kalangala can afford to carry. The cosmopolitan passengers, stuck on their seats in the 1st and 2nd class compartments are apprehensive of the impending three hour voyage. Some, like Dr. Peter Kato, are not travelling for the first time. He is used to the usual voyage aboard MV Kalangala.
“Tickets go for Ushs14000 for 1st class,” a raspy hoarse female voice totters through the gramophone. “Tickets go for Ushs10000 for 2nd class.” And the usual cliché, “We wish you all a safe journey.”
Hardly, quarter way the voyage, the erstwhile quiet, organized ambience within MV Kalangala has mutated into a noisy ‘restaurant’.
Soft and alcoholic drinks are all over. But, NO SMOKING warning stares one in the visage as one traverses across the chambers.
The few, who can afford silence, are at it, apart from the one or two inquisitive breaks. A few tables away, revellers are playing cards. I can’t withstand the hullaballoo they are evoking. The incessant flow of alcoholic drinks has made the revellers madder at their din-making game.
The thrilling episodes of Jurassic Park can keep you entertained well throughout the icy voyage.
For non-alcoholic consumers, there’s a canteen between the 1st and 2nd class chambers. You can order for tea or soda there. Different food types are also served at the canteen. So, you if you don’t have company, are hungry and have some money to spare, order for a bite.
“You are feeling sea sick,” doctor Kaliika tells me, about two hours into the sea. The moist breeze had eaten me, skin deep. I thought I was in a human freezer. Carry your jacket or pullover in case you don’t want to feel sea sick and are travelling for the first time.
There’s also security aboard MV Kalangala. Patrick, one of the two security guards tells me, he has worked on MV Kalangala for a year now. He boasts of his swimming prowess, which puts him in a position to even save any drowning soul, if unfortunately possible. I don’tbelieve him. But, he will warn you about the sections you should not go to, especially atop the deck.

THEY were love birds. They shared moments, each to each, inch to inch. They were the perfect match. Nothing would tear them apart. There was not a single flaw in their intimate relations. They were meant for the big future they would make together as a couple.
Such is the picture of the relationship between Susan and Simon (not real name). For five years, they had known and trusted each other. The first time they met, Susan was in her senior three, while Simon was in college. Oblivious of the stories and songs she heard about the hurt in love and relationships, she knew her experience was one in a million. She was engaged to him and they hopped to marry soon after Susan's second year at the university.
She never cared to believe that four years later, a mere romantic message in Simon's mailbox could break her heart and wreck their relationship.
It all occurred after Susan had just joined university. Susan, whom Simon had entrusted the password to his email address, landed on a message, which changed her perception and trust for him. The message, a part from containing sexual innuendo, revealed Simon was hiding a lot of infidelity in his closet. Susan laments that Simon didn't inform her that he had somebody else in his life, and was simply using her for his own convenience.
"All along, he had been cheating on me," a tearful Susan lamented. From then, she learnt not to trust him again. "Now, I believe that faithfulness is just a word."
She confesses that she wished Simon knew and appreciated how much she loved and trusted him, but he lost out.
Simon was pained, too. He had seen Susan's parents over the issue of marriage and thought he had wasted the effort as Susan was now totally uninterested. She pulled out of the engagement and informed her parents not to engage in any marriage negotiations with Simon.
A year after the break up, she is unwilling to commit but broods over the possibility of remaining single for as long as she can manage.
Andrew thought he loved Rehema, a girl from an Islamic background. His involvement with her was more of obsessive love than true love with moderation. He could do anything to please her. Despite this, Rehema didn't put all her heart into the relationship. She took it as a casual friendship and considered Andrew as one of her special friends.
Andrew's love for her was irresistible. However, when he met her with another man, arm around her waist, at a bus stage, his world of love collapsed on him. He wouldn't believe her assurance that the man was a cousin and not a lover she was hiding from him.
But, when Andrew consistently questioned her sincerity on her status with the other man, Rehema threw in the towel. She informed him that she was in fact engaged to him and they would walk down the aisle soon. A dark cloud hung over Andrew's love life. He locked Rehema out of his life and instead, married a lady he confesses he is learning to love, despite siring a one year old daughter with her.
Ironically, Rehema's marriage was not to be and she is still at large. But, the blast from the past still haunts Andrew whenever he thinks of or meets Rehema. He stills doesn't want to accept the fact that she awfully let him down. But, once in a while, they move out. Though, Andrew bears the guilt of cheating on his wife, he believes Rehema was the woman of his life. He is not totally committed to his marriage as he virtually spends more time and affection with Rehema than his wife.
What makes them fear to commit?
The reason why Susan doesn't want to commit in another relationship is because she fears heartbreaks. To her, once bitten, twice shy. It isn't reasonable to be committed to someone who takes you for granted and doesn't care breaking your heart.
Scola, a lady in her twenties, says she fears to commit in a relationship because she doesn't like breaking somebody's heart, something she claims she is capable of doing.
"I joke a lot. I don't know when I would ever be serious," she says. She even jokes about serious issues. And, many guys she has interacted with have often taken her seriously. This is when she retracts and claims she has a penchant for non-commitment. They end up feeling disappointed.
Susan adds that love really hurts, "The point is, when your partner starts saying the wrong things, doing the wrong things, seeing the wrong people, going to the wrong places, it hurts. It really hurts. You start convincing yourself they will change. You hope things will be the same again."
To her, once a relationship takes such a path, things can't be the same again. The partners begin to lose trust in each other, and often, cheating or unfaithfulness on either side, sneaks in. Once the damage is done, either partner will find it hard to commit again in subsequent relations, which could otherwise be constructive and healthy.
Oduor Stephen, a 25 year old Information Technology specialist has no hurry to commit either. He claims he has turned down such calls from a pool of ladies around him to commit. But, his case is different. He is the third born in a family of six. His two elder brothers are unmarried. The eldest is in his thirties and there seem to be no wedding bells yet. So, Oduor has to wait until the eldest brother weds, before he can get serious as far as committing in a relationship is concerned.
He also adds that all he is thinking about at the moment is advancing his education instead of committing in any relationship, which he thinks he can't live up to. He simply doesn't have the time and resources to invest in a relationship, something that is not his foremost priority.
Joshua Masinde

It ain't all that funny, deciding after half-a-day in the room, doing nought but contemplating, to stroll out and stretch my muscles, rather, strain my muscles (with a friend). Down the lane. Past Wandegeya. Past CMI (Chief Military Intelligence) headquarters. CMI can be equated to the infamous Nyayo House during the Nyayo era in Kenya.
The streets are dimly lit, in neon street lights scattered here and there.
On a bodaboda (the almost nuisanceous motor cycles Kampala is notable with), straight to Uchumi supermarket, located right within the Palatial and Princely setting of Garden City. Nelly, a friend and media colleaque, confided to me the place where Garden City stands was once a swamp, gazzetted as a no-go-zone for any developer. But, the utmost authority in the powers-that-be, having vested interest in the wetland, put up the princely hotel cum shopping mall, an addition to their innumerous investments.
The wetland is strategically located, bordering the city centre, just across the main asphalt road, where a high school once stood. It was demolished and word had it that it was to be sold to a Saudi Prince at a cost of ush.300M. (The government has a policy, since it assumed power more than two decades ago) of attracting investors). The Saudi Prince would build a five star hotel to host the CHOGM (Commonwealth Heads of State and Government Meeting) delegates. However, the hotel was never constructed. Media reports (with the exception of the government media) revealed scandulous consignments that surrounded the land.
Just a thought.
Back to Garden City. Into Uchumi supermarket. Nelly had hoped to buy wine only. He needed it badly, a reason for our nocturnal venture to the supermarket where he confided to me he often got the good wine at better rates. But, all brands are too expensive for an ordinary bloke to afford. Food prices having skyrocketed globally, should be no excuse for the dear price of wine. Is wine food? Why is it too expensive, but with limited quantity? Oil prices are at their peak. What of wine? It ain't supposed to be as exorbitantly priced as we noticed at the supermarket.
Any how, he goes ahead to purchase several other stuff, after sorting out a relatively cheaper brand of wine. I get juice and blue band, which he pays for (a very generous chap I ever met).
It's quarter to ten. We walk to a restaurant for drinks. After we are done with fanta and coke, the former, which I prefer, we walk out. At the entrance, as we stroll out, we spot a journalist who works for a leading media house. 'Ebazanye,' Nelly reminds me. I saw him in the past, and I've seen him often at his desk at The New Vision. "He has brought his chick here for fun," Nelly and I conclude as we ooze out of the cozy palatial supermarket and the entire Garden City.
The venue is fantabulous.
Just a memory.